As Long As You're Mine
by annonymouslyblonde
Summary: Takes place during DH during the tent dance scene. Harry and Hermione have been dancing, but when the song changes, will something change between them too? (Song-fic to As Long As You're Mine from Wicked.) This is a prequel one-shot to another story I am working on. The two can be read together, separately, out of order, while eating a banana, however you choose.


A/N: This does follow cannon up to Ron's departure. The only difference thus far is the tent scene has been moved up to two nights after Ron leaving. The story then follows the books/movies past that until Ron comes back. The rest of the story is mostly cannon bar anything non-harmonious. There is another prequel scene to be published soon. It also takes place during the time Ron is not with them. The main story takes place during the Battle of Hogwarts.

A/N2: I was informed that I could not post this story with the song lyrics on the story. I apologize for that as I did not realize that was a rule here. I have since edited the story to exclude the lyrics themselves. Instead, I have placed the line numbers for the lyrics if anyone would like to know what lyrics go with each part of the story. Again, I am very sorry for this mix up.

As the song fades, another starts behind it. The song is somewhat familiar, but she isn't sure why. This one is far more intense than the former one. The tone is lower, almost dark. His hand remains at her waist, loose enough to allow her to move away if she chose to. Her hand grips his shoulder still, but she lays her head against his chest, the stumble from his chin grazing her forehead occasionally.

 _1-4_

Slowly, she begins to pull away from him. Looking in his eyes, she feels his fear pulsate through her. His fingers tighten around hers where they intertwined. Silently, he pleads with her to reassure him she is truly with him. That he won't to be abandoned. Her reciprocating squeeze, her steady gaze all tell him what he needs to know. _I'm here. I won't leave you. Not now. Not ever._ His releases her hand to trail a finger down her cheek, pushing away a strand of hair.

 _5-8_

Quickly, she tiptoes up to press her lips to his, her reassurance that she was truly there. It's nothing more than a pressing of her lips to his. The innocence of the gesture heartbreakingly sweet. It doesn't last long, no more than 5 seconds. Then she's looking back at him, studying his face. His eyes remain shut as he presses a finger to his lips.

 _9-12_

She's suddenly self conscious that she's pushed too far. That they have crossed a borderline they can never step back to again, and she fears she pushed him to it. That he'll regret it, resent her for it. But then he smiles at her and she knows that in that moment, war be damned, he is hers and she is his.

 _13-16_

They know this may not last. That with the war, they likely will be separated. The thought close at hand but never spoken. Not in the atmosphere they have created here. Not when they are still standing so close together, his hands at her waist, hers on his shoulders swaying lightly with the song.

 _17-20_

He begins speaking now, voicing his doubts. About himself, about finding and destroying horcruxes, his ability to defeat voldemort, the outcome of the war. He feels stupid for taking on such a monumental task. He feels he isn't good enough, or strong enough. He isn't special, but then she's there whispering assurances to him, giving him wisdom, helping him through just like she always has.

 _21-24_

And with her there, he feels something stir in him that he hasn't felt for a long time. She's shown him he is not alone, that he can always count on her. And he'll never be able to repay her for that. He feels lifted, airy almost. Electricity or magic, he isn't sure which, seems to pulsate from her, surrounding him, pulling him in like a wave crashing into the sand.

 _25-28_

Suddenly there is a desperation between them. Hands are pulling through hair, mouths attacking unforgivingly, tongues dancing greedily together. Neither knows who moved first, almost as if they came together as one like two magnets finally released. Her hands find purchase on his jumper, pushing it up. They part long enough for the material to move past his mouth and come back together before the wooly material drops to the floor. His thin cotton shirt the only thing separating his broad chest from her wandering hands.

His fingers fumble with the buttons on her flannel until it flutters to the floor revealing the snug, longsleeve she wore underneath. As she bites down on his lower lip, he groans and decides it's his turn to take the lead. His hands find her thighs, lifting her effortlessly and setting her back on the table, giving her the extra height to keep her at his level. Her legs wound around his torso, nails scraping against his scalp and neck, tongue feathering the roof of his mouth.

He releases her mouth eliciting a light whine from her. She tries pulling him back to her, but his lips falls on her collarbone. He begins making his way upward. The strained groan that escapes her was not lost on him as his lips nip at the skin of her throat. Her back arches into him and her head rolls back giving him better access. His hands slide under her shirt, exploring the turns and dips of her smooth back, tugging her even closer. He smiles into her neck as he feels her breathing hitch. This is spiraling quickly, but neither could bother to care.

Unexpectedly, he sucks the sensitive skin under her ear making her gasp in surprise. He uses this opportunity to thoroughly explore her mouth, his hands still making rounds across her back keeping her flush against him. His tongue dances alongside hers, and she moans when his teeth captures her tongue playfully.

Then, she's the one pulling away, bumping her nose to his, but staying just out of reach of his mouth. Instead, she goes to nibble his earlobe. His responding shiver is the only warning she has, before he slots his lips to hers, attacking her mouth with a new force. Her hands wander under his shirt, feathering over his chest, his ribs, his stomach. He quickly pulls it off, giving her as much space as she wants to run those wandering fingers over. Her hands splay across his back, pulling him closer and closer until his knee is on the table hoisting himself up. She continues pulling him to her, her teeth pulling at his lip again driving him crazy. He follows her down until her back presses firmly against on the table, him holding his weight above her molding perfectly against her.

 _29-30_

The table groans under their combined weight, the sound bringing them back to themselves. No, they can't, not yet. Not when things are so uncertain. He jumps back, gobsmacked. Her hands fly to her traitorous mouth as she sits back up on the table. She had no idea she even knew how to do that. But with Harry, it had been natural. Every inch of her body that he kissed, that he touched, sparks with electricity still. At some point, her hair had fallen from its confines and masks the crimson blush that crept up her face. When she dares a look at him, his back is to her and he's pulling his shirt back on, a flush evident even on the back of his neck.

 _31-32_

She realizes this has always been there, lying in the background between them, waiting for the moment they could admit it. Admit they weren't just friends. Admit they have a special bond. Admit they need each other more than they ever needed someone else.

And when she looks at him, he's that unsure little boy, afraid he's messed up. That he's gone too far and lost her now too. Lost her friendship. And in a way, he has. He's dissolved the rope that has tied them together for so many years and replaced it was something stronger, something akin to steel or titanium, something that has pulled them even closer together, something that she is sure will last a lifetime.

The band of skin exposed from where her shirt had ridden up tantalizes him. He wants nothing more than to reach out and feel the smoothness of her skin against his course, Quidditch callused hands once more. Almost sensing his thoughts, she slides off the table gently and grabs his hands, placing them at her hips again, showing him this desire, it's okay with her. His thumbs rub small circles on her exposed skin sending a shiver through her. Her hands land on his chest again, gentle, almost fragile this time. Such a stark contrast from their earlier desperation.

 _33-36_

The enormity of what they had done, what they almost did settles on her and she shakes in his arms. His hands strengthen as she shakes. He wants to pull her to him but is still unsure, still afraid of frightening her away. Her hands go to his neck, pulling herself into him, wanting nothing more than to stay there forever with him, to never let this war hurt him again, spoil what is brewing between them now. His arms tighten, pulling her inches off the ground.

Finally, she pulls away, ready to voice her thoughts, but when she cups his cheek, he grabs her hand and presses a gentle kiss to it causing all coherent thought flees her. This boy who admitted to never knowing how to handle girls, particularly emotional ones. This boy who had been destined for such monumental things practically from birth. This boy who had always struggled with his emotions, but she could read as easily as one of her ancient tombs. This boy that had saved her from a Troll and a lifetime of monotony simultaneously. This boy that made her fall in love. Words couldn't cover what he meant to her. So instead, she pulls his lips down to hers again slowly. She wouldn't allow them to lose control again, because if it came close to last time, neither of them would be able to sto. They pull away shortly. She brushes the fringe away from his eyes and raises up to press a kiss to his scar. He's beaming at her now. He had never let anyone touch his scar before, but her lips smoothing over the raised skin feels right to him.

 _37-38_

The moon, their only witness holding the secret of their activities tonight. Tomorrow, they will continue their research to destroy the horcrux, but tonight, that night, they are going to take for their own. They won't let whatever was happening between them be a distraction, she won't let herself be a distraction. Not while the war continues. But just for this one night, until the moon became sun, they steal for themselves.

 _39-40_

His fear begins creeping back in when she offers to take the first watch. Was that her way of running? Was she trying to put space between them? Had he scared her off? When she sees the tremors start, she's grasping his face in a second, begging him to tell her what's wrong. His head falls to her shoulder, ashamed at his behavior, but voicing his unease nonetheless. She tries to deny it, but he continues rambling senselessly. He's simply muttering on out of fear. Instead of responding, she merely takes his hand and pulls him to her camp bed. She pushes his shoulders until he finally sits. She hesitates only a moment before deciding to sit on his lap rather than beside him. He finally relaxes and wraps his arms around her burying his face against her neck.

They lay down together, neither bothering to change from their jeans. None of them had slept in anything but in far too long. Always ready to run, always ready to fight.

 _41-42_

She wakes up early the next morning. She's still buzzing from the previous night and will never fall back to sleep now. The way he's clutching her waist is almost enough to keep her there, running her fingers through his wild hair. But there's research that needs doing, and she had promised them the night which had now ended. Gently as she can, she untangles herself from him, trying not to disturb his peace. Before long, she's settled in at the table with a hot mug of coffee, still able to look up to Harry's sleeping form.

A few hours later, she looks up to rest her eyes only to find Harry sitting up staring at her.

"What is it?" she asks self-consciously. Was last night coming back to him as shock? Embarrassment maybe? She wonders if he'll ask them to forget, go back to how they were before. Perhaps he was going to completely ignore what happened between them.

But then, he smiles at her and moves from the bed. He crouches just in front of her and trails a finger down the side of her face. All breath has left her as she watches him.

"It's just. For the first, I feel…hopeful. " Before she can respond, his lips find hers. And in a flash, it's over. He's standing, going to the kitchen to refill her coffee mug and make their breakfast. As she turns back to her research, she can't help the smile that spreads across her face as she hears him humming the tune from the night before.


End file.
